Traditions
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: Christmas is a time of tradition, and Fred and Hermione Weasley have a few of their own.


Here's a little Christmas one-shot. It's been awhile since I've done a Fred/Hermione (Fremione?) story, and like many of my stories, this came to me in the middle night. I hope you enjoy, and to my Dramione fic readers, I'm working on the third part of "Christmas with the Malfoys"!

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><p>Her back hurt.<p>

That was the first thought that entered Hermione Weasley's mind when she awoke in the early hours of Christmas morning. A heavy arm pinned her to the floor, and it was by some miracle that she managed to extricate herself.

"Fred," she murmured. "Fred, sweetheart, time to wake up." Smoothing back shaggy red locks from his forehead, she pressed a kiss to the newly exposed skin.

Beneath her, Fred groaned and covered his eyes to block out the sunlight that poured in through the sitting room windows. Though he couldn't see, he still was able to capture his wife's lips in a searing kiss. He opened his eyes to the sound of giggling and turned. "Morning, little buddy," he greeted his son.

Jack Weasley smiled, showing off the gap where his tooth had fallen out a week earlier. His light brown hair stuck up in every which way after a self hair cut gone horribly wrong. "Why are you and Mummy on the floor?" he inquired, moving to sit between his parents.

Fred and Hermione exchanged a look and shrugged. "It's tradition," she replied. They had been married on Christmas Eve two years after the war ended. Their brand new flat had nothing but a fireplace, and so they had slept on the floor in front of a roaring fire. Hermione awoke alone the next morning, but Fred wasn't gone for long. He had gone to get his new wife a tree to decorate. And so, as the years passed and their family grew, Fred and Hermione slept on the living room floor every Christmas Eve.

"Was Julie awake when you got out of bed?" Fred inquired, watching as his five year old son stared greedily at the mountain of presents beneath the tree. He nodded distractedly as he read the tags in hopes of finding one of his gifts. Fred pulled himself to his feet and helped Hermione up. "I'll go get her. You keep an eye on him. That boy is too much Fred and not enough Hermione."

As Fred left the living room, Hermione turned back to her son in time to catch him gingerly peeling back the tape on his present. Clearing her throat, she smiled when he dropped the box sheepishly. Minutes later, Fred returned with the youngest of their brood resting against his chest. Julie was still half asleep, but her excitement couldn't be contained much longer. Putting the two year old down beside her brother, Fred ruffled her auburn curls. "Now, you two know the rules. One at a time, and you wait for the other to finish before moving on to the next gift."

Hermione handed her daughter a small box and took a seat beside her husband on the sofa. "Think we're getting a bit old for this tradition?" she wondered, watching as Fred rubbed the sore muscles of his neck.

"Oh come on. What's a little back pain compared to the memories we've made over the years?" he replied. He leaned in close to whisper in his wife's ear. "As I recall, our dear little Jack was conceived courtesy of this thing you wish to abolish. And don't try to tell me we don't do it every year. You got lucky that one year when you were seven months pregnant with Jules."

"You realize this little conversation is also a tradition," she pointed out, nuzzling her nose against his.

"Mum, stop that," Jack whined. He got to his feet and carried a still packaged fire engine to his father. "Dad, I can't get it out of the box. You do it."

"Please," Julie interjected in a perfect imitation of her mother. Then the little girl returned to combing the pink and purple mane of the new horse she opened.

Fred held the box, but made no move to open it. One red eyebrow piqued as he awaited his son's next words. Stomping his foot, Jack muttered, "Please." As he waited impatiently for his father to finish extracting his new toy, he wedged himself between his parents. Hermione wrapped her arms around his small shoulders and kissed the top of his head. "Do you think Teddy or James got one like this?"

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione replied, knowing Harry Potter's son received the same truck. "You'll just have to wait and see when we get to Nana and Pop Pop's."

Fred handed over the truck and sent his son on his way. An hour later, every last gift had been opened, and the living room was a mess of wrapping paper, boxes, and ribbon. Hermione prepared breakfast while the rest of her family cleaned up the mess. Fred entered the kitchen with Jack by his side and Julie in his arms as she placed a platter of pancakes in the center of the table. "I have a gift for you," he whispered in her ear when they both reached the icebox at the same time.

"Now?" Hermione asked, excited to find out what it could possibly be.

Shaking his head, he retrieved the pitcher of pumpkin juice and took it to the table. "Sorry, love. Later."

The Burrow was louder than ever when they arrived at noon. Two parents, seven children, six spouses, and fourteen grandchildren took over every inch of space the Weasley family home had to offer. Jack found James Potter first, and the two proudly showed off their favorite Christmas gifts. Julie, the shier of the two, clung to Fred until her grandmother greeted them. A smile lit the little girl's freckled face as she reached out for Molly to take her. She squealed as her Nana peppered her rounded cheek with kisses, giggling all the way to the kitchen to "help" with dinner.

"Of all the people here, she still only lets Mum hold her," Ron Weasley, Fred's youngest brother, commented as he kissed Hermione's cheek.

"Jealous, little brother?" Fred inquired. The family had always expected Hermione to marry Ron, and even Ron had begun to believe they were destined for one another. Unfortunately, by the time the youngest male Weasley made his move, it was too late. Hermione had fallen for Fred not long after the war ended. She had tended to his wounds after he'd nearly been crushed by a fallen wall, sitting by his bedside in St. Mungo's for months as he healed. Hers was the face he fell asleep and awoke to every day for nearly a month, and he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life in the same fashion.

The double meaning of his comment seemed lost on Ron. "Not in the slightest," he replied. "I haven't forgiven her for all the times she's thrown up on me."

"Ah, I've trained her well," Fred commented, receiving an elbow to the ribs from his wife. "Think we can convince her to do that when she becomes interested in boys?"

"Probably not," Hermione muttered as she entered the kitchen to set the table alongside Ginny.

It wasn't long before supper was on the table. Platters extended from one end to the other, and the guests were packed tightly in on both sides. Despite Ginny's implorations for a separate table for the children, her mother would not hear of it. Fred and Hermione sat side by side, one child between them and the other to Hermione's right. The large family talked loudly, clinked silverware against dishes, and reprimanded their children for not eating their vegetables.

Fred was only too glad when he was able to get his wife alone as his father and brothers handled clean up. "You're supposed to be helping," she chided when he pulled her into the mud room. "Besides, it's freezing out here," she added, rubbing her arms to provide a little extra heat.

"Thought I'd give you your present now," he whispered, bending to kiss her. "Jack and Julie will be staying with Mum and Dad for the next week. Now, we could go away. Perhaps some place tropical. You can tan. I'll get an amazing sun burn. We'll spend the week with me complaining and you rubbing me down with aloe. _Or_ we could have the house to ourselves for the first time in five years."

Hermione smiled. "Would I still need to rub the aloe on you if I pick option number two?" she inquired, stepping closer to him.

"It's optional," he decided, after thinking about all the naughty implications it could have.

Stretching up onto her toes, Hermione pressed her lips to his. "It's so much better than that potions set I got you. Thank you, love," she murmured against the soft, supple flesh.

It had begun to snow as they pulled away. "Ya know, I wished for you one year," he told her, watching the flakes fall to the ground.

"What does that mean?" he wondered.

Sighing, Fred enveloped her tightly in his embrace. "It was the year you and Harry and Ron were hunting the horcruxes," he explained, stroking one hand up and down her back as he relived the moment through his memory. "We were hiding out at Aunt Muriel's, and I remembered Mum telling us when we were kids that the star on top of the tree could grant your wishes. I always thought that was rubbish because every year I wished to be an only child, and we both know that never happened.

"Anyhow, I wished I could see you again," he continued, unaware of the small sniffle that came from his wife. "I wished I could see you healthy and unharmed, even if it was just once."

"And you got your wish," she finished for him, holding him tighter.

"I did," he confirmed.

"Happy Christmas, my love," she whispered.


End file.
